


Someone Else

by restlessandordinary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Harry Potter - Freeform, M/M, Morning After, Redemption, but ends with fluff don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 20:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13818567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlessandordinary/pseuds/restlessandordinary
Summary: Draco struggles to let go of the past and live a life he can be proud of, regardless of the opinions of others. Maybe what he really needs is a chance to be someone else, even for one night.





	Someone Else

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spiral_cellar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiral_cellar/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Restless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13891704) by [spiral_cellar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiral_cellar/pseuds/spiral_cellar). 



> Presented as a birthday gift to the amazing and incredible cellar_spiral, with the character of this Draco being based on their artwork (which this should hopefully convince her to finally upload here ;) ). I am so profoundly glad that we stumbled into this fandom around the same time, and were able to find each other so quickly. Please keep creating, keep drawing and writing, because you're fantastic and I love your work and I will obviously pay in fanfics. Love you, doll!!
> 
> Update: Lee added the artwork this fic was inspired by here, go give it some love!!

Draco walks briskly down the London street, the neon lights from street signs reflecting off his platinum hair and making his facial features seem even sharper somehow. He takes one last drag of his cigarette and deftly flicks it away. It’s a disgusting habit, one he picked up years ago to piss off his father. Now, however, he mainly does it when he needs to think. Or to keep himself from thinking of something he’d be best not to dwell on, like in this case. His past has been resurfacing more often recently, the guilt and shame intertwining with the fragile hope he had begun to foster. He could usually push those dark thoughts down these days, accept the fact that he was a child caught up in a war he did not start and had started to forgive himself, even if others never could. But some nights were harder than others.

He’d managed to lie low the past few years, living in Muggle London to avoid drawing unwanted attention after the war. He rented a modest flat, a few blocks from the muggle dive bar he worked at. When he had to travel further he would take the tube, finding comfort in being surrounded by people who didn’t recognize him. Didn’t expect anything of him. He worked the night shift at the bar, staying up until the early hours of the morning and sleeping most of the day away. He had always been a night owl, and he loved the freedom he felt walking around the city at night.

Tonight is a rare night off for him, and Draco had no idea what to do with himself, he was too keyed up to sleep. So he had found himself here, wandering through the streets and doing his best to keep his more troubling thoughts at bay. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a shop window as he walked past. Draco had always favored black, and tonight was no exception. With a black velvet blazer over a dark green shirt and impeccably tailored charcoal trousers, he cut an imposing figure. He wore his hair styled shorter these days; he got tired of seeing his father staring back at him every time he looked in a mirror. He hated that, in one way or another, his father factored into every decision Draco made. But to his credit, he thought, he generally made the opposite choice to what his father would have wanted. He was struggling to become his own man, to not be defined by his family and the Malfoy name.

Draco shakes himself out of his self-pitying reverie as he arrives at the entrance of a club he has been to a couple of times, where the music is too loud and the lighting too low. The perfect place to lose himself and let his worries melt away to nothing. He makes directly for the bar once inside, needing a drink to settle the frantic buzzing of his thoughts. In his haste, he bumps shoulders with the man next to him at the bar, and turns quickly to apologize when the words die in his throat. Because staring back at him was the last person he expected to see in a seedy muggle club on a Wednesday night, someone he never thought he would see again. Harry Potter was honest to Merlin standing right in front of him, shock and recognition sweeping over his handsome features.

“Malfoy? What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I suppose.” Draco raised a hand to summon the bartender and ordered two firewhiskeys. He handed one to Harry, then quickly downed his own before his nerves got the better of him and he ran out of there as fast as he could. He glanced over to find Harry mirroring the action, finishing off the generous pour of whiskey in a few swallows; Draco’s eyes tracked the movement of his throat and he unconsciously licked his lips. Draco had long since come to terms with the reason he always gravitated towards Harry, why he had always been obsessed with him and thought that it was anger when it was something else entirely. It became glaringly apparent once he had left Hogwarts and for the first time had a chance to find out who he was without the influence of anyone else. Well, anyone except those few wizards who helped him out along his journey of discovery.

Draco shook his head slightly, already feeling fuzzy from the alcohol, and realized that he had been staring at Harry for full minute without saying a word. To his credit, Harry appeared unfazed by Draco’s odd actions, and was looking back at Draco with a small smile on his face. What an interesting development, Draco thought, before the bartender was refreshing their drinks and Draco decided to stop thinking so damn much. The second round was finished moderately more slowly, and with a heavy silence between the two men.

“Just for tonight, let’s pretend we are someone other than we are, yeah?” The words are out of his mouth before he can swallow them down, but Draco doesn’t have the chance to regret them before Harry is nodding decidedly, eyes flaring.

Time is frozen for a moment, neither knowing what to do next. Harry, as always, has the courage to make the first move. He reaches out and gently grasps Draco’s wrist. Although there is no way he could hear Draco’s sharp intake of breath, Harry seems just as surprised by his own boldness. In for a knut, in for a galleon he figures and Draco leads the way to the dance floor, Harry following closely behind without releasing his hold on Draco’s wrist. They weave between the dancers, until they find an open space in the middle of the dancefloor. Draco turns to face Harry, and they sway slowly at first, oblivious to the fast tempo of the song currently playing. They start off a few inches apart, still tentative to enter each other’s personal space and test the boundaries of this -- whatever this is.

Draco is staring somewhere over Harry’s shoulder, mind racing to catch up with reality, where he is somehow here with Harry Potter in front of him, looking for all the world like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Which is obviously proof that the firewhiskey is affecting Draco more than he originally thought. But all thinking comes to an abrupt halt as Draco feels Harry’s finger under his chin, lightly turning his head so that their eyes meet. Harry’s eyes are even more beautiful up this close, somehow serious and playful at the same time, and Draco can see tiny flecks of brown within the emerald irises.

Harry’s hands settle on Draco’s hips as their dancing picks up pace, never breaking eye contact as Draco winds his arms around Harry’s neck in return. Harry’s grip on Draco’s hips tightens as he pulls him closer, their chests barely touching each other as they move. Before he can overthink and decide against it, Draco turns around, back flush to Harry’s chest, and lays his head back on Harry’s shoulder. His eyes flutter shut as he focuses on each sensation, each touch of his body to Harry’s. The firm shoulder he’s resting his head on, the strong chest he’s leaning against, and the hands very nearly holding him upright since his knees seem to have given out at some point. Harry’s thumbs find their way under his shirt, where they rub small, electric circles over his hip bones, setting fire to the skin they find there.

Draco’s eyes fly open at the feeling of Harry’s lips gliding over his neck, the slightest warning before they settle on pulse point and leave a wet, lingering mark there as lighter kisses are trailed up his jawline. Draco gives up the last semblance of control he thought he was holding onto as he turns his head and their lips finally meet, messy and frantic at first but perfect in all the right ways. Draco feels the loss somewhere deep in his chest when Harry pulls away, but Harry’s lips are right back near his ear, skimming the outer edge as he whispers “Come back to mine?”, and Draco is nodding before the question is even finished. The lights and noise of the club swirl around him for a moment before everything goes black, as Harry apparates them away, statute of secrecy be damned.

~~~~~~~

Draco wakes up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed, sunlight just starting to work it’s way between the curtains. He tenses up for only a moment before memories from the night before come flooding back; going to the club, running into Harry there, drinking with Harry, dancing with Harry, _Harry_. The way he had smiled at Draco at the bar, the way his eyes sparkled and danced as they stared into Draco’s, the way his hands felt as he touched Draco like he was possessing him, claiming him but gentle and reassuring at the same time.

Draco turns his head slowly to see a mess of unruly black hair on the pillow next to him, his eyes traveling down over the infamous scar to the face he had never seen up this close, had never seen without glasses obstructing his view. Dark lashes rest against his cheeks, which puff out slightly with each breath Harry takes, slow and measured as he sleeps on peacefully. Draco is struck suddenly by the meaning of this act, that Harry could sleep so soundly next to him. A Malfoy. A death eater, however briefly. That anyone, especially someone like Harry - the boy who made all the choices Draco had been afraid to - could have such trust in him? It shook Draco to the core.

And maybe, Draco considers, as Harry looks up at him with a sleep-soft “G’morning”, wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close before falling back asleep, maybe this is the time to let go of the past. To move forward into a future where he can be the person he wishes he had the chance to be, all those years ago. Maybe Harry is that chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on tumblr, thanks for reading! I promise I love each and every comment <3
> 
> @restlessandordinary


End file.
